Reasons
by Krissie
Summary: Eggsy never really left Harry's house after the man's death and resurrection. There's probably a reason for that.


Eggsy had never really left Harry's house after the man's death. He'd paid for a place for his mum and Daisy and just … stayed where he was, tending Harry's garden and eyeing up Mr. Pickle every time he didn't go upstairs to piss.

Even when Harry had come back from the dead, Eggsy hadn't left, and Harry hadn't asked him to go. They hadn't spoken about it, and Eggsy assumed Harry had his reasons—like that their last interaction had been so upsetting, and he was maybe trying to make amends by not forcing the younger man out. To be fair, though, they hardly ever saw each other anyway; one or the other was often out on a mission and so the only real difference from before was Harry's tea supplies were used in half the time, and sometimes they'd be home at the same time to eat a meal together. Those nights were the nights Eggsy enjoyed most; they were comfortable and sort of warmly domestic. Growing up in the council estates, he hadn't ever expected to get anything close to that, and even though it was more out of convenience than returned affection, Eggsy loved it.

Harry was supposed to be home from Japan within the hour, so Eggsy'd called for takeaway from the Indian place with the curry Harry liked. It was already on the table when Harry walked—well, stumbled was a bit more apt—in, looking more than a bit worse for wear.

"Shit, Harry, bad mission?" Eggsy asked, and a weary Harry sighed, unbuttoning his suitcoat and tossing it over the back of the couch haphazardly.

Harry had never been so carelessly casual in front of Eggsy before.

It was kind of hot, really.

"Didn't get the intel off the bastard," Harry said, loosening his tie and removing his cufflinks as Eggsy watched. Here was his mentor practically stripping in front of him, in the living room of the house they, for all intents and purposes, shared. Eggsy would be lying if he'd said he had no feelings for the other man, though he'd been careful to keep them hidden in case Harry made him leave. Probably tell him something about how a gentleman doesn't shag his protégé, no matter how fit he is, too.

Shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and Eggsy licked his lips. Harry had gorgeous arms. "So the mission was a bust, then? How'd you get that bruise?" Harry's arm was black and blue, and Eggsy wondered if he'd get away with asking to kiss it better.

"His bodyguard slammed into me with his car when I was trying to find an escape route. Nothing broken," Harry assured the younger man, toeing off his shoes and socks and kicking them into the corner. "Fuck it. You've got dinner?"

Eggsy nodded. "Curry."

Harry smiled gratefully. "Bring it in here, would you?" He sat down heavily on the couch, feet stretched out in front of him. Eggsy had never been a fan of feet, but he couldn't help but want to worship his mentor's a bit.

Two plates and two bottles of beer made their way to the coffee table, and Harry turned on the news as he began to eat. He visibly relaxed with each passing minute, all the tension he'd been carrying making its way to Eggsy, who was staring more at Harry than the telly.

"Eggsy?"

"What?"

"Is there a reason you're staring at me? Your curry's going cold."

Eggsy flushed. "No—just—I've never seen you so dressed down before," he lied, stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth. "Don' think I ever even seen your arms before."

Harry chuckled softly, weariness evident in his voice. "It's a special occasion," he murmured. "Been a while since a mission went so spectacularly tits up on me."

Eggsy frowned. "D'you need me to do anythin' for you?" he asked. "Get you an ice pack or somethin', or a banana for that bruise?"

"I'll be fine, Eggsy," Harry said, finishing his curry and nearly throwing the plate back to the table. "You do plenty just being here."

Yeah, Eggsy loved hearing Harry say shit like that. He flushed a bit, but gathered their empty plates. "I'll turn in for the night, then, yeah? You'll call if you need anythin'?"

Harry nodded, eyes closed as he relaxed into the couch, and Eggsy couldn't help himself: he leaned down, bussing his lips against Harry's before making a break for the kitchen, and up the stairs before Harry could comment. Maybe if he ignored it, Harry wouldn't kick him out.

* * *

Harry smiled slightly, fingers lightly touching his lips as he listened to Eggsy retreat upstairs.

He knew there was a reason he'd not kicked Eggsy out when he came home.


End file.
